So Of Course It's Already Turning Into A Story

[dr_pretentious]

An estate sale is practically a fiction writing exercise: here's an inventory of possessions--now extrapolate a character from them. The home of the departed, where all of his belongings are displayed by category rather than placed for use, becomes an intensely alienating setting. How many alarm clocks? How many lamps? Preoccupations that might otherwise have been invisible are suddenly visible.

It wasn't just hoarding; it was a small collection of particular obsessions, all of them inscrutable. None of the obsessions looked like they'd been much fun.

Estate sales bring out pros and cons--by which I mean antique dealers and thieves, and it's not always clear that there's a distinction. It's a wonderful sort of setting for revealing megalomania and desperation in any character you might want to send out shopping. It's also a fine setting for revealing good social bonds among the characters running the sale. I suppose it could be good for straining the characters' bonds, too, but we did all right at twoeleven's father's house, and my folks showed up to bring plastic bags and coffee and bagels.

It was a strenuous weekend, but kind of exhilarating. Well, I thought it was exhilarating, but I'm an extrovert. I hope twoeleven and the uberblonde are recovering okay.

Not for the first time, I was glad to have learned my haggling skills in Seoul. The shopkeepers of Itaewon always got the better of me, and probably still would if I went back, but it was good to have the memory of those Itaewon shopkeepers to imitate when the antique dealers tried to bully me into cutting prices in the first hour of the sale. The first hour of the sale was pure madness, and there were hardcore bargain hunters lined up, quite literally, around the block. No, that's not where the decimal place goes, and here's the appraiser's documentation to explain why, bucko. You can get the same thing for a dollar at other estate sales any weekend of the year? By all means, then, depart for one. You want to knock five dollars off the lamp? Well, I tell you what, you come back after noon, and if the lamp's still here, we can talk about that five dollar difference, but if you want to be sure of going home with the lamp, you can pay the price as marked before the rest of your fellow vultures get at it.

In the last hour of the day, the object of the game shifted. In that hour, the point was to empty the house to the greatest extent possible, and in the effort to follow those instructions, I found myself selling Corningware saucepans still in their original packaging for a dollar, and faithful old power tools for twenty five cents.

Did we win the game? It's hard to tell. Poor twoeleven is still stuck with one of these. On the other hand, the superfluity of lamps, alarm clocks, televisions, and microwaves is much diminished.

And now I have the opening scene of a new Rugosa Coven story. I'm supposed to be working on the Beltresin prequel, yes, but this is going to be so good! Oh, well. As matociquala sometimes laments, any work but the work we should be doing.

Comments

[methastra.livejournal.com]

> where all of his belongings are displayed by category rather than placed for use, becomes an intensely alienating setting. How many alarm clocks? How many lamps? Preoccupations that might otherwise have been invisible are suddenly visible.

This is one of the most interesting lines I've read in a long while. I wonder how big the different sections would be if I did this with my own life's accumulations.

> None of the obsessions looked like they'd been much fun.

Well, at least SOME of my obsessions would appear to have been fun. Or at least shocking. :-)

> I was glad to have learned my haggling skills in Seoul.

So what haggling skills did you learn? I need to buy a car soon, and I suck at haggling. That's why Carmax gets so much of my money, even though you can get better deals at the 'traditional' dealerships.

> and faithful old power tools for twenty five cents.

Power Tools for a quarter! Argh! My testosterone hurts just reading this knowing I missed out on the opportunity to purchase such things that I don't even need.

Glad you survived your weekend, and possibly got a chapter or two out of it as well ;-)

- Brian

[dr-pretentious.livejournal.com]

Most of what I know about haggling comes down to this: know where your cutoff is, and be ready to walk away/refuse to sell, the very instant the other party to negotiations tries to cross your line. At the estate sale, the line in the sand was moved systematically every two hours--apparently that's standard practice for people who manage estate sales professionally. In general, though, it's best if you know before you walk in the door where your line is, and to project decisiveness.

Avoid haggling in the presence of children. Kids who haven't grown up in a haggling culture will usually take the side of the salesperson in opposition to the adult who's trying to buy them something. The last thing you want is for the salesperson and the kids to be trying to manipulate you in tandem; even if you prevail, the experience is unpleasant. I saw this all the time in Seoul. If you're shopping in the company of another adult, especially your SO, make sure you and your companion are in agreement about where the line in the sand is before you walk in the door. Salespeople are big on divide-and-conquer strategies.

Try to do your shopping in anticipation of the need, rather than when need is pressing. If you can't afford the time it takes to walk away from a bad deal and hold out for a good one, even if it takes weeks to come across the good deal, you'll pay in money for the time you don't have.

The shopkeepers of Itaewon would be able to say much, much more than this. It's practically performance art, the way they do it.

[calene.livejournal.com]

But... but... it's the project that you seem to have more passion for right now!

Awesome on the opening scene! I hope the rest of the book goes well for you.